


Take a Step into the Open

by Ammeh



Series: FE3H Wankfic [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Late Bloomer Byleth, Masturbation, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sauna, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ammeh/pseuds/Ammeh
Summary: It takes Byleth a while to notice how much Claude's filled out.She's a little confused on why she wants to keep looking, but he's willing to help her work through it.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: FE3H Wankfic [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862374
Comments: 27
Kudos: 198
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	Take a Step into the Open

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 of FE3H Wank Week - Exhibitionism. Featuring one of my favorite Byleth takes, "Byleth never saw a hormone in their life before Garreg Mach and is still kind of confused by it."
> 
> Title from Urban Alligators by Half Looking. I don't usually do lyric titles, but something about current events + writing Claude exhibitionism got that song stuck in my head for three days. Apparently my brain just has extremely specific criteria for what lyrics it's willing to accept as titles (works as a double entendre + works as an emotional thing + some other line reminds me of the character + by Half Looking)?

The thing about spending too long on pegasus-back is that it doesn't hit you until the next day.

Spending the last three hours hunched over a strategy map was probably a bad idea. Byleth stretches, hissing softly as her sore, tight muscles protest.

Claude, who joined her both on patrol yesterday and on this ill-advised bout of stooping over a table, rolls his shoulders. “Want to hit the sauna?”

That sounds wonderful, actually. “Sure.” She rolls up the map they've been poring over and tucks it back into its case. “Lead the way.”

It's late, the sauna's technically closed—but she's still got a set of faculty keys and she's perfectly willing to use them. The store of clothes for the sauna won't be replenished until morning, so she ends up in a slightly-large pair of shorts that hang low over her hips, and a top that isn't quite roomy enough for her chest. She wonders if Claude's faring any better in the other changing room.

The sauna's still warm, if cooler than usual. Claude's already lit the lamps and is starting up the magical fire under the rocks to get them hot again. He seems to have had better luck on the changing front; his outfit looks well-fitted.

He sits down a few feet away from her on the bench. “It'll probably take a little while to properly heat up, but it's still better than nothing.”

Now that she's looking more closely, his outfit might also be a bit too tight. The close fit of the shirt makes his shoulders look very...broad. Were they always that broad? Is it just a trick of the fabric cut?

He notices her staring and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong with my shirt?”

“Oh.” She shakes her head. “Sorry. This is just the first time I've seen you out of those puffy clothes. I didn't realize how much you'd filled out.”

It's not just his shoulders—his arms and thighs are more solid than they used to be. Thicker. Powerful-looking.

...Of course they are, he's an archer who fights from wyvernback. He'd have to have muscular thighs and strong arms. Why is she still staring?

Claude stretches—slow, leisurely. His shoulders flex and the fabric of the shirt pulls even tighter over his chest. The hem rides up a few inches, exposing a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his pants.

“You okay, Teach?” He seems amused.

“I'm fine.” Her cheeks feel warm. The sauna's not even that hot yet.

“You seem a little flushed.” His knees spread further apart. The shorts seem a little too small, clinging around his groin.

Oh. No, maybe he's getting...

Byleth grew up in rough taverns and mercenary camps. She's seen men hard in their trousers before. But her instinct has always been to quickly look away, to feel a bit uncomfortable. Not...to wonder what it looks like under the fabric. How much bigger it's going to get.

She swallows.

“You're staring an awful lot. Do I have something on my pants?” Eyes fixed on her, Claude runs a hand along one of his thighs, then over the bulge forming in his pants. It's more of a caress than a brushing motion.

Her brain can't form a reply. What is this tense atmosphere?

He winks at her. “Oh? Did I not get it?” He draws his palm over his groin again—slower, more deliberate.

She parts her lips, struggling to come up with a reasonable justification for why she's staring at his crotch. Looking away would be a good first step. But his hand's still rubbing slowly over it, the bulge getting bigger and more defined, and she can't tear her eyes away.

“It's just. I haven't seen your dick before.” She's trying to fall back on the same excuse that this is the first time she's seen him in form-fitting clothes, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes that it doesn't work for dicks like it does arms. She's not supposed to be noticing dicks in the first place. Think. How does she recover?

“I think we could fix that,” Claude says, and yanks down the hem of his pants.

The surprised yelp never makes it out of her throat. His prick springs free, thick and curved, that trail she noticed earlier bleeding into a thatch of dark hair. Her eyes jerk up to his face—his gaze is probing, heated. She's used to Claude looking at her like he's trying to see what she's thinking, but this feels a level deeper, like he's trying to peer into whatever buried desires she hasn't admitted even to herself.

There's a hint of a grin playing at his lips as he traces the fingers down the length of his cock in a showy, languid stroke. “So? Did you want to do anything else with it, or just see it?”

“I—” Her eyes are drawn back down. There's a drop of wetness starting to gather at the top—she can see the slit pulse as a little more leaks out. “I wasn't trying to ask you to take it out.”

“Oh?” He runs his hand back up the shaft and swirls his thumb over the bead of fluid, smearing it. “You sure about that? You seem pretty interested.”

She gulps, shifting in her seat. “Well, you've gotten very...nice-looking.”

He laughs softly. “Nice-looking, huh?” He pulls slowly at his cock, the skin rolling under his grip. “Well, you're welcome to look as much as you want.”

She meets his eyes and there's a hint of uncertainty under all the confidence, one that melts away at whatever he sees in her face. She's not sure what that is. She's honestly not sure when this became a topic of interest, but there's a strange eager tension in her stomach that wants it to keep going. She might still be feeling a bit lost, but she's always been one to learn by doing.

Claude shifts on the bench, angling his body towards her to give her a better view. He spits in his palm and goes back to rhythmically stroking his prick. The muscles in his arm are flexing subtly with the motion of his wrist, his breathing getting heavier.

His eyes drop to her torso, his stare heated and unfamiliar. “Nice outfit yourself, by the way. I wasn't going to mention it.”

She looks down, to where her borrowed shirt is stretched over her chest and riding up above her exposed hipbones. She knew in the abstract that other people found her figure attractive, that the clothing she thinks is cute and comfortable is considered sexy, but she's never experienced it quite this directly. Claude's looking at her body while he strokes himself. Maybe he's thought about it before. She shivers.

“I do have one suggestion though,” he says. “If you're going to watch me rub one out, I wouldn't mind something to look at in return.”

He's staring at where her nipples have started making peaks through the fabric. Oh. He wants to see...

She feels her cheeks somehow get even hotter at the thought, but...well, it does seem fair. She nervously fists the hem of her shirt. Inhales. Lifts up the fabric, tugging it over her tits and holding it at her collarbone.

And just like that, her tits are out in the open. For Claude to look at, to get off to. Something clenches hot in her stomach.

He curses softly, knuckles tightening around his shaft, the movement of his hand accelerating.

There's something building inside her, a deafening itch that wants _more_. Since first arriving at the monastery she's felt flashes of it, urges that prompt her to touch herself beneath her blankets when it had never seemed worth the effort before, but this is beyond what she's ever experienced, grown past a heat between her legs to an appetite in her _mind_ somehow, and she doesn't know how to sate it.

Claude's hips are flexing now, bucking forward into his hand like his cock's grown too impatient to wait for each stroke.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. Hopes it'll help her understand what she wants.

“You sure you wanna know?” He makes eye contact, a promise she can't interpret in his gaze. “Until we win this war, we're not really in a situation where we can avoid each other. If I tell you, tomorrow you'll have to look at me across the strategy table and know exactly what was going through my head. Maybe even wonder if I'm still thinking about it. Are you sure you want that?”

She nods, breath catching in her chest.

The side of his lip curls up in a grin. “Let's see...I'm thinking about how you might react if I reached over and touched your chest.” His eyes drop to her tits again. “About standing up and squeezing your tits around my cock.”

Unconsciously, her arms draw in towards her torso, press her tits together to see what it'd feel like.

He inhales sharply, his voice dropping even lower. “I'm remembering what your thighs look like bobbing in the saddle on a pegasus, and picturing how they'd look if you were riding me instead.” He thrusts up into his hand. “I'm imagining bending you over that bench and pulling your shorts down, seeing what your pussy looks like, fingering it until you come all over my hand. I'm thinking about what it would feel like to knead your tits while I fuck into you from behind.”

A small noise forms in her throat. She wants that, all of it. She clenches her thighs, squirms them together trying to ease the craving between her legs.

He gasps. “Shit, I'm gonna—” his palm flies up to cover the cap of his cock, other hand frantically working the shaft.

“Let me see,” she demands breathlessly.

“You sure?” he asks, drawing back to expose the deeply flushed head again, his other hand still surging up and down the length. “It's gonna get _—mm.”_ A jet of whitish liquid spews from the head of his cock, landing on the bench between them.

She leans in to get a better look, and the next one splashes over her tits, wet and warm.

Claude groans, holding his cock steady for the next spray to join it. His balls twitch as he empties them onto her tits in messy spurts.

It's hot, and wet, and _dirty_ , and she knows tonight is going to be one of those nights where her hand slips under the covers, knows she's going to be thinking about this while she does it.

They sit there for a moment in silence, panting, watching as his come drips down her tits. The skin there is coated in it, gleaming wet in the light. A few drops collect at her nipples and plop down onto her thighs.

The sauna's just now getting up to temperature, but...she feels overheated already.

“So,” Claude says. “That happened.”

She nods, smiling a little. “It was nice.” Is nice the right word?

Claude lets out a startled laugh. “Teach...you're really something else. Just when I think I have you figured out, you do something else that surprises me.”

She shrugs. She's not sure she has herself figured out either.

“One thing I am sure about, though...” He reaches out with one finger and draws a slow rivulet through the mess on her tits.

She gasps, an electric jolt ripping through her at the sudden contact. It's a light touch but as far as her body's concerned he might as well be directly fondling her clit. She might not make it to bed before she's touching herself over this.

His smile reaches his eyes, and it's hungry. “I think I need to get you bent over a table more often.”


End file.
